“I’m hungry.”
“Then we’ll order pizza. You’re too drunk to cook, and I am not cooking for you.”
She ordered pizza on her Uber app, since I didn’t have a phone. While I leaned haphazardly on the island, gazing at her.
“I love your dark eyes,” I gushed.
She sighed.
“I could just stare at you. I like the way your fingers dance around when you speak. You’re so graceful.” I punctuated that by almost falling on my face when my hand slipped right off the countertop.
I caught myself, barely.
“Let’s just sit down in a nice soft place.” Devi took my arm and steered me over to the living room. We sat down on the couch. I flopped back and spread my legs. Felt like heaven.
“This feels like heaven. I never noticed this couch is so soft.”
“You’re half off of it.”
I was. My ass was barely on the edge of the cushion, my legs sprawled out across the fuzzy rug.
“I like the rug.”
“It’s your rug,” she said.
Was it? Was it always this soft? I pulled off my socks and dug my toes into it.
Devi sighed again. “Where have you been, Dane? Are you ever going to tell me?”
“Australia.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I sent you a postcard.”
“I didn’t even get that postcard until you’d been gone for three weeks, Dane.”
I was too drunk to follow this logic.
“What were you doing in Australia?”
I shrugged. “Surfing. And you know what I learned about that?”
“What?”
“I am not a good surfer.”
She didn’t look amused. “Australia is a first world country, Dane.”
“I know.”
“So, you’re telling me you were surfing on a beach with chicks in bikinis while I was worried you were in the damn Congo, getting eaten by some jaguar? Or kidnapped for ransom. Or murdered.”
I frowned and sat up a bit so I could hook an arm around her, clumsily trying to pull her to me. “Hey. I’m okay.”
She took a deep breath as I smelled her hair, then pushed out of my grasp.
I sank back on the sofa like I was sinking into a cloud. Devi was watching me. She didn’t look happy.
